


Just a Really Bad Night

by Snovi



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Apocalypse, Character Death, Character Undeath, Emetophobia, Gen, Guns, Seizures, Suicide, Undead, Vomiting, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 07:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snovi/pseuds/Snovi
Summary: “I'm so hungry Michael, I feel like I'm starving, that must be part of it!”“But you were looking for normal people food, not brains at least?”“Zombies eating brains only happens in movies and we both know it!”((Zombie Apoc AU))





	Just a Really Bad Night

**Author's Note:**

> big trigger warning for suicide at the end  
> also theres no romantic relationships in this fic just fyi
> 
> me: i could always write a series for goretober...  
> me: *sees zombies as a prompt on a goretober list*  
> me: or........ i could write 10 pages of sad zombie shit

“Jeremy! Dude, where were you!? We were all worried!” Michael gasped the moment his best friend stepped through the door. Everyone else looked up at Michael’s exclamation, relief settling over all of their faces. 

“We were getting really concerned, we thought you'd gotten bit.” Jake agreed. Jeremy smiled at him weakly in response, walking further into their safe house. 

“Sorry I worried all of you? I'm f-fine though, really. I can take care of myself.” He assured them, trying hard to mask his limp. Christine noticed easily though, always perceptive of others. 

“Jeremy? Are you sure you're okay, you're walking strange…” She asked, putting a hand on his shoulder as he got close. He turned his head to look at her, his eyes dazed. 

“Huh…? Oh, yeah, I'm okay. Just tired. I walked a long way.” He brushed her off, limping past his friends to where they kept their sleeping bags, wanting nothing more than to rest right now. Michael frowned at his odd behavior.

“I'm gonna go talk to him and make sure he's okay…” he said out loud to no one in particular. He got up and quickly followed Jeremy into their sleeping area, seeing him already face down in a pillow, looking like he had collapsed onto his sleeping bag. Michael knelt down next to him, shaking Jeremy's shoulder. 

“Jer, buddy, are you sure everything is okay? You're acting weird, and everyone can see it… Dude?” Michael shook his shoulder again when he got no response. “Jeremy!” He shoved Jeremy’s shoulder more roughly, causing the other boy to finally turn his head slowly, looking up at Michael with glassy, half lidded eyes. 

“Whuh…?”

“Seriously man, what's wrong with you?” Michael demanded, putting a hand on Jeremy’s forehead. “Did you get bit or something? You look awful.” He asked, mostly joking. Jeremy shook his head quickly.

“No, no I… I'm sorry, I'm really just tired. I went out to see if I could find a store or something with food, and I went out pretty far and didn't find anything, and it was just…” He had to pause, almost wincing like it hurt to talk for too long, taking short breaths. Michael's concern worsened. “I'm just frustrated, it was a waste of a trip and it was a long way so… Yeah…” He finished explaining, winded after his little rant. Michael nodded in understanding, still worried. 

“Alright man, if you're sure you're okay…”

“I am.” Jeremy assured quickly, burying his face in the pillow again, his voice muffled. “I just… I need to sleep.” 

Michael sighed, looking at his watch. 

“It's only 4pm… but whatever, I'll nap with you, okay? You're still looking kind of sick, so I'll keep you company if you want?” He offered, already kicking off his shoes and taking off his hoodie and glasses, getting into the sleeping bag set up next to his friend. He heard Jeremy hum in approval as he got comfortable, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. 

“Just don't get sick on us, okay Jer? Surviving the zombie apocalypse is hard enough without one of us being ill.” Michael tried to joke, getting no reaction from the boy laying next to him. Sighing, Michael rolled onto his side, tucking his hands under his chin. He shut his eyes and attempted to sleep, even though he really wasn't tired. 

 

Before he knew it he was jerked awake, not realizing he had even fallen asleep. He sat up and grabbed his glasses off the floor beside him, putting them on his face and almost stabbing himself in the eye in the process as he looked around to figure out what woke him up. A quick glance at his watch told him it was now 8pm, the other sleeping bags around the room now occupied by his friends, who were sound asleep. Jeremy however, was tossing and turning next to him, and had bumped into Michael in his sleep, the culprit of Michael being awaken so abruptly. Michael sighed and rested a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, rubbing softly in an attempt to soothe him. 

Jeremy got nightmares sometimes, something that had started soon after the outbreak was announced. He frequently had nightmares about his friends dying, one of his worst fears. Usually a hand on him while he was having a nightmare would help, but now it only made Jeremy cry out, curling in on himself in his sleeping bag. Michael drew his hand back quickly, eyes wide. He reached back out again after he recovered from the slight shock, trying to shake him awake. 

“Jeremy! Jeremy, hey!” He whisper-shouted, not wanting to disturb the sleeping teens around him. Jeremy thrashed in his sleeping bag, violently slapping Michael’s hand away in his abrupt movements. His face was contorted in pain, his hands in tight fists. Michael cursed under his breath and got on top of his friend, holding down both of his arms by his wrists. 

“Jeremy, wake up! Look at me, you're okay!” He hissed under his breath, trying to get through to the boy. Jeremy was crying now, his eyes still shut tight. He sobbed and shook his head side to side, weakly trying to pull his arms away. His back arched up off the floor at a painful looking angle, his frail looking body trembling with the strain. 

Rich, who had been laying on Jeremy’s other side, was finally roused by all the commotion, growling angrily. 

“What the hell is- Michael? What's going on?” His anger dissipated as his tired mind assessed the situation. Michael looked at him with fearful eyes.

“I don't know, I think Jeremy is having a nightmare? He won't calm down, he's never been like this before!” He explained in a whisper, still holding down the boy in question. Jeremy was no longer fighting to get up, now sobbing and trembling where he lay. His face was pale and streaked with tears, his eyes still shut tight. 

“Jesus Christ… Yeah, that doesn't look great.” Rich commented, watching Jeremy’s face with a frown. “Since you and I sleep closest to him we can both keep an eye, I guess…?” He scooted his sleeping bag closer to Jeremy’s, seriously concerned by his actions. Michael nodded silently, slowly releasing Jeremy’s wrists. Jeremy made no move to lash out further, or move at all. His sobbing had reduced to soft hiccuping, tears still running down his face. Michael gently brushed his friend’s tears away with his hand, frowning deeply.

“Shhh, Jer… I'm right here… Its okay, everyone is okay.” He whispered reassurances, unsure if Jeremy could hear him or not. Rich watched them for a moment, then sat up fully and leaned against the wall behind them, crossing his arms. 

“I'm gonna stay up for a bit and watch him. You get some more rest, okay Michael?” At Michael’s unsure look, he added, “I'll wake you up if anything happens.” 

“Okay, if you don't mind… Thank you.” Michael agreed reluctantly, brushing Jeremy’s bangs off his forehead. He mentally noted how sweaty and warm the boy’s forehead was, slightly feverish. Michael sighed and laid back down, trying not to worry about it too much. He rolled over so his back was to Jeremy, shutting his eyes and trying to sleep once more. 

 

Sleep came to him again, though it was much harder this time with his increased anxiety for Jeremy's health. Because of this he was less than pleased when he was harshly shaken awake, grumbling and smacking the hand that was shoving him. 

“Michael! Fucking get up!” He heard Rich’s voice hiss, his eyes snapping open when he remembered the situation. He sat up straight, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“What's going on? Where's Jeremy?” Michael slurred, realizing Jeremy wasn't next to him anymore.

“He just got up and walked out! I tried to make him stay and sit back down but he was really fighting me and then he just left the room!” Rich explained, and Michael was on his feet before the other boy even had time to finish. Michael was out of the room in seconds, looking out for his best friend. Jeremy hadn't gone far, as Michael quickly found him just one room over, where the group of them kept their supplies. 

“Jeremy? Dude, what are you doing?” Michael questioned, walking up to him slowly. Jeremy was on his knees on the floor, digging through the supplies without even the slightest acknowledgement of Michael's presence. 

“Come on man, come back to bed, okay? You're clearly not feeling well, you need more rest- Hey!” Michael jumped back as a can of soup nearly hit him in the foot, tossed over Jeremy’s shoulder carelessly. He had found the bag where the group had been keeping their food rations and was now digging through it ravenously. 

“Can't you wait until morning to eat!? Its like, midnight!” Michael said, exasperated. Still Jeremy gave no sign of hearing him, letting out grunts of frustration when all he could find was cans of food, all of which would need a tool to open. He lifted one of the cans to his face, and to Michael's surprise, took the can into his mouth and began to gnaw at the lid like a wild animal. Michael snatched the can away from him, holding it out of reach. 

“What the fuck has gotten into you!? You'll break a tooth doing that, just get the fucking can opener, man!”

“Michael, please…” Jeremy seemed to finally notice he was there, standing up shakily and reaching out for him. “Michael, Michael…” He muttered his friend’s name under his breath, stumbling closer unsteadily. Michael dropped the can on the floor and wrapped Jeremy in a tight hug, shushing him gently. 

“Its okay, I'm here… Can you please come back to bed now? It's late and I'm seriously worried, you look awful…” Michael frowned, rubbing Jeremy’s back comfortingly. 

“I feel awful, too… I'm hungry… Michael…” He muttered his name again, clenching his hands into fists, holding onto Michael's shirt like a lifeline. “It hurts…”

“What hurts?” Michael tried to pull away from the hug to look Jeremy in the face, but the other boys grip was too tight. Michael began to stand, helping Jeremy up with him, when he began to struggle.

“It hurts, Michael it hurts…!” He gasped, shaking in Michael’s arms. He felt his legs give out under him, onto being held up by Michael’s hold on him. 

“Okay, okay Jer, you're okay…” He tried to convince both himself and Jeremy of this, sinking to the floor slowly so Jeremy wouldn't fall and hurt himself. Jeremy started to cry again, burying his face in Michael’s shoulder. 

“It hurts, oh my god it hurts, it hurts, it hurts…” He repeated, his breathing heavy and labored. Michael could feel how sweaty Jeremy was through his shirt, trying to get him to let go for a moment. 

“Jeremy, buddy, can you let go for just a second? Let me help you out of your shirt or something, you're sweating like crazy, it might make you feel better…” Michael grabbed the bottom of Jeremy’s shirt, making Jeremy cry harder. Despite this, he put up no resistance, so Michael continued. He got Jeremy to let go of his shirt enough for him to pull the article of clothing up and over his head, tossing it to the side. 

“There, now you can try and cool off…” Michael felt his voice die in his throat as he took in Jeremy’s naked upper half. He sat there, still shaking and crying, arms crossed over his chest. It did nothing to hide the disgusting looking bite mark on his side, however. The flesh around the wound was purple and bruised, the bite itself was a sickly yellow and was covered in dried blood. Jeremy continued to sob, while Michael was stunned into silence. He stared in shock at the bite, then looked up at Jeremy’s pale face and dazed eyes that wouldn't meet his own.

“Jeremy, why didn't you say something sooner-”

“I don't want to die Michael, please, I don't want to die, I don't want to die like this, please!” Jeremy begged, shuffling closer to me and hugging me once more. Michael couldn't bring myself to hug him back this time, too afraid to put his  hands anywhere near the bite. “Please don't tell them Mike, they'll kill me, they'll kill me if they find out!” 

“Th-They won't kill you Jeremy-”

“They will! I'm just another zombie, Michael! Oh god, I'm gonna turn into a zombie, I'm already turning into one, oh god…” Jeremy was in hysterics, hyperventilating as he clung onto his friend. Michael tried to shush him best he  could, though his mind was racing, trying to think of what to do. 

“It'll be okay, everything will be okay… You haven't turned yet, you'll be okay…” He said gently, sighing. “Maybe you won't turn…? It's been hours, and you haven't yet, so maybe-?”

“I'm so hungry Michael, I feel like I'm starving, that must be part of it!” Jeremy cried.

“But you were looking for normal people food, not brains at least?”

“Zombies eating brains only happens in movies and we both know it!”

“I know, I know, poor time for a joke…” Michael admitted, biting his lip as he tried to think. His brainstorming was cut short as Jeremy suddenly went tense in his arms, his breath getting caught in is throat. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open, his face frozen in fear for a few moments before his eyes suddenly rolled back into his head. Michael watched helplessly as Jeremy let go of him and fell backwards, hitting the floor with a heavy thump. He laid on the floor convulsing slightly, his fingers twitching into fists every few seconds. Michael could only watch in stunned horror as the scene played out, unsure of what to do. 

Jeremy suddenly let out a heartbreaking, blood curdling scream, his back arching off the floor and his hands reaching for the bite on his side, screaming and writhing on the floor in agony. Rich was at Michael's side in moments at the sound of the scream, now wide awake. 

“What's going on!? Was that him screaming?” Rich demanded, not letting Michael answer before he continued to speak. “Michael, is that…?” His face fell when he saw the bite mark, looking up at Michael with a deep frown. Michael shook his head, finding it hard to process everything. 

“I just saw it too, he's been hiding it…”

“Michael, you may want to go back to our room… You won't want to see this.” Rich told him, his voice resigned and sad. He reached for the pistol he kept on his person at all times since the start of the outbreak, pointing it at Jeremy’s head as he took the safety off. Both Michael and Jeremy’s shouts of “No!” made Rich hesitate, giving Michael time to try and wrestle the gun out of his hands. 

“You can't just kill him, are you crazy!?” Michael cried, grabbing the gun and trying to yank it way. Rich held onto it tightly, pulling back just as hard.

“Have you lost your mind? He was bitten, Mike! He's going to turn and fucking kill all of us, is that what you want!?”

“No, of course not! But you can't just shoot him! You've known him for years, do you feel no remorse?”

“Of course I do, I don't  _ want _ to kill him! But I have to, to protect my other not-bitten friends!” Rich pulled the gun away from Michael with one last tug, holding it out of his reach. “Deep down you know it's the right thing, too. Wouldn't it be better for him to die now, than to see him end up rotting away and killing one of us? Or what if he gets out and is cursed to wander the earth with all the other zombies for all of eternity? Think, Michael!”

Michael scowled, looking down at Jeremy. The boy had passed out at some point during their argument, now laying limply on the hardwood floor. He looked paler than ever, the bite mark on his side more red and inflamed than he remembered it looking before. 

“There has to be another way.” Michael mumbled, shaking his head in denial. “One day they'll find a cure, and we can help him. We have to keep him alive until then, don't you get it?” He looked at Rich next, who was also staring at Jeremy in deep thought.

“But what if there never is a cure? Having a zombie in our one place we know we’re safe is dangerous. More of us could get hurt.” Rich argued, all the fight gone from his voice. “The others are all awake back in the room. When Jeremy screamed the first time, it scared them all… I'll go explain to them what happened. I'll be right back, keep an eye on him.” Rich stood, holding the pistol out to Michael. “If he tries to hurt you, defend yourself, okay? At least try to.”

Michael nodded silently, taking the gun and looking back at Jeremy. He faintly heard Rich’s footsteps get quieter as he left, leaving him alone with Jeremy's unconscious form.

“Don't worry, Jer.” Michael said softly, going over to the bags Jeremy had been digging though prior. “I'll try to fix this. I can't lose you, I can't…” He muttered, finding a bottle of water and grabbing it, sitting next to Jeremy with it. He noticed how badly Jeremy was shaking, getting more concerned the longer he stared at him. With a deep breath, Michael opened the water bottle and carefully poured some of it out onto Jeremy’s wound. He knew it was probably far too late to stop it from infecting Jeremy, but he was desperate. Jeremy didn't react at all, so Michael continued, using Jeremy’s shirt to clean the dried blood from around the wound. He was focused on the task at hand, almost finished cleaning up his friend when a hand grabbed his wrist firmly, stopping him in his tracks. He looked up, meeting Jeremy’s eyes. Michael felt sick as he stared into those eyes. Eyes that were once so bright and blue and filled with life, now dull and glassy, unfocused on Michael even though he was clearly staring him in the face. “M-Mike...” Jeremy mumbled, his voice pained. “Help, help me… It hurts, please make it stop, it hurts…”

Michael felt his heart break at the way Jeremy begged him, trying to stay strong for his friend. 

“Its okay, I'm trying to help, look- You're all cleaned up now at least, see?” Michael gestured to the bite mark, which was still ugly and bruised, but at least wasn't bloody anymore. Jeremy shook his head, holding Michael’s wrist tighter. 

“N-No, Michael, it's too late!” His eyes suddenly went wide and frantic, letting go of Michael's wrist and backing up away from him. “It's too late, I… Please don't let them kill me…” He began to cry again, his sobs making his whole body shake. 

Michael was at a loss for what to do, trying to get closer to his friend to pull him into a hug. Jeremy held out a hand to stop him, his other hand flying up to cover his mouth. Michael backed off, only able to watch as Jeremy leaned to the side and braced his hands on the floor, vomiting up all the contents of his stomach onto the hardwood beneath him. Michael again reached out, rubbing his back softly to soothe him as Jeremy continued to violently puke out everything in him until he was dry heaving and shaking, drool dripping from his lips. 

“Mike… It  _ hurts _ …” Jeremy said again, his voice soft and raspy. Michael took a shaky breath, hugging his friend. 

“I know buddy, I know… You're gonna be okay, we’ll find a cure or something, okay? You'll be fine!” He hugged him a little tighter, hearing Jeremy let out a shaky sigh. 

“I wanna go home…” Jeremy said suddenly, taking Michael by surprise a bit.

“Home…?”

“I wanna go home and play games with you. I just want to go back to how it was. I want to go back Mike, I hate this, it hurts so bad, I want to go home!” Jeremy finished his speech with a wail, crying like a child. Michael felt like crying too, burying his face between Jeremy’s shoulder blades.

“I want nothing more than to do that, Jeremy. I'd love to go back, and play some games with you… We could shoot up some zombies, digital ones, and stay up all night until we pass out…”

“And you'll let me share the bed with you?”

“Of course. I'd be an asshole if I made my favowite pewson sleep on the floor…” Michael smiled as he playfully mocks his friend, feeling his heart soar for a moment when he got a light chuckle out of him. The mood turned grim again when Jeremy's body convulsed again, trying to vomit but there was nothing left in him. He was left wheezing, hunched over a pile of his own puke, the smile that had appeared on his face gone again just that quickly. Michael hated watching him suffer, but didn't know how to help at all. 

“Jeremy, is there anything I can get you…?  _ Anything  _ I can do to help?” He asked gently, Jeremy shaking his head in response.

“N-No, I… Gghh… It just hurts…” His thoughts were quickly interrupted with a groan of pain, his head lolling forward like he no longer had the energy to keep it up by himself. “Mike, I c-can't feel my fingers…” He mumbled suddenly, making Michael’s blood run cold. Another symptom of turning into a zombie, that much Michael knew.

“Okay, um, just try not to focus on it, just come here Jer, try and distract yourself!” He brought him into another hug, gently scooting them both away from the mess Jeremy had made on the floor. “You're gonna be okay, everything is going to be fine, you trust me, right?” 

“Of course!” Jeremy answered instantly, burying his face in Michael's chest with his eyes squeezed shut. “But I'm still scared, I… I feel so c-cold. I can't feel my fingers and my side feels tingly.” 

Michael looked down at Jeremy’s bite wound at that, feeling a little sick himself when he saw how inflamed and painful it looked. It looked a lot worse than when he first saw it, despite taking the time to try cleaning it. While the wound was bruised and purple before, almost all of Jeremy’s midsection was now a deep maroon, the skin around the bite a mix of reddish purples and sickly yellows. Jeremy grabbing onto the front of his shirt like his life depended on it shook Michael out of his head, making him look at the other boys face. He was pale like a ghost, his eyes wide and full of pain and fear. 

“Michael it hurts, it hurts so bad, make it stop, please…” He begged, tears running down his cheeks, which were as white as sheets. Michael almost couldn't stand to look him in the eyes, hating seeing his best friend in so much pain yet being unable to do anything to help. 

“Shh, I know… I'm sorry, I don't know how to help you…” He said honestly, nuzzling Jeremy’s soft hair that was tickling his face, anything that could help comfort the sobbing boy. Jeremy only cried harder, his whole body shaking like a leaf. 

“Michael, oh god Michael, I can't feel my legs, I…” Jeremy broke off with a frightened sob, staring up at Michael with pure, unadulterated fear in his eyes. Michael shushed him again, the only comforting thing he could think to do, and raised one hand to wipe the sweat from Jeremy’s forehead for him. He yanked his hand back like he had been burned when it made contact with Jeremy’s skin, shocked to find him burning up. While Jeremy’s torso and chest felt strangely cold, his forehead was hotter than any fever Michael had ever felt before, and it scared his to him core. Jeremy panicked more at Michael’s reaction, shutting his eyes tight and hugging himself, his shoulders shaking and twitching with his sobs. 

Rich came back into the room, a grim look on his face when he took in the scene before him.

“Michael, I just finished talking to everyone. They're sad of course, but they've come to terms with Jeremy. Now you need to, too.” Rich told him, picking up the handgun he had given Michael that had ended up on the floor at some point. Michael scowled, holding Jeremy protectively.

“What do you mean ‘come to terms’?” he asked, fear lacing his words since he already had a good idea of what he meant.

“Michael, look at him! He's practically dead already!” Rich shouted, pointing and accusatory finger in Jeremy’s direction. The boy didn't even flinch, his crying dissipating and his eyes faraway and unfocused. “You have to put a stop to this before it's too late. Or let me put a stop to it, at least. That isn't Jeremy anymore, its a zombie, and you need to treat it like one!” 

“Don't call him an it! He's still Jeremy!” Michael snapped at him, turning his body so Jeremy was protected better. Rich growled, getting frustrated. He tried to keep his cool, taking a deep breath. 

“If you think I  _ want  _ to kill him, you're a fucking moron. But it has to be done or else only worse things will come of it. Please Michael, don't make this harder than it has to be.” He said more gently, catching Michaels attention finally. He looked up at Rich miserably, his eyes full of tears. 

“I don't know what I'll do without him, Rich. I don't want to let him go, there's still a chance of a cure, we-” 

“By the time a cure is made he’ll be way too far gone and we both know it. It's too dangerous, we have no idea when it could even be invented. It could be discovered in a week, or it could be 10 years. Think rationally, Mike…” Rich sighed, hating the reality just as much as everyone else. Michael took a shaky breath, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. He seemed resigned when he silently made the decision, gently laying Jeremy down on the floor and standing up, his arms already feeling empty without his best friend in them. Jeremy blinked, his eyes a little more focused and a lot more confused as he looked up at Michael.

“M-Michael…?” He croaked, and Michael only shook his head in reply, starting to back away from him. He turned around when he got to Rich’s side, his back to Jeremy.

“I'm so sorry, Michael. Please don't hate me or anything?” Rich asked him, frowning. Michael shrugged, his face unreadable.

“It's what you have to do. And I wouldn't have been able to do it, so you're a hero I guess.” He mumbled, flinching when Jeremy started to cry out. 

“Michael! Come back, please! I need you Michael, don't leave! Please don't leave me, please, you said I'd be okay, you promised!” He sobbed. If he had the strength he would have run to Michael by now, but Jeremy couldn't feel the lower half of his body at all, leaving him unable to move. Rich had to avert his eyes as he raised the gun, pointing it at Jeremy’s head. This only set him off more, crying and screaming in desperation. 

“Michael, please! Help me, help, he's going to kill me Michael! Michael...! MICHAEL!” Jeremy was struggling to breathe with how hard he was crying and it was evident in his voice. Michael felt hot tears down his own face, shakily bringing his hands up to his ears to cover them, unable to take much more Jeremy’s begging.

Rich was hesitating as well, his gun pointed at Jeremy, but his eyes on the floor. 

“I'm sorry Jeremy, it's for the best. I'll see you in another life or something, okay?” he said softly, his words almost drowned out by Jeremy’s pleas for mercy. Rich shut his eyes tight as he pulled the trigger, both him and Michael giving a slight jump at the loud bang. Michael kept his hands over his ears, but he still heard the dull thump behind him, the sound of Jeremy’s body hitting the floor. The house felt too quiet now, and while he was glad he didn't have to hear Jeremy scream for him anymore, it set in that he's never going to hear Jeremy's voice again, and the realization made his heart squeeze painfully. He slowly lowered his hands, letting them fall limply to his sides. He vaguely registered the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, nudging him forward.

“Come on, Michael. We should really be getting back to bed. Jake and I can deal with the cleanup in the morning.” he muttered, leading Michael back to the room with and steady hand on his shoulder all the way. When Michael stepped back into the sleeping room, he heard crying, and voices talking to him. None of it processed, everything just sounding like white noise to him. He laid down in his sleeping bag silently, curling up in the fetal position. He finally let himself cry properly, the reality of the situation beginning to set in that his best friend was gone. 

He cried softly to himself, Jeremy’s agonized screams still ringing in his ears. The way the boy had cried out for him would haunt him for years to come, Michael felt like a failure for not trying harder to save his best friend. Michael let him die. He left him to scream and cry and hurt all on his own, literally turned his back on him in his time of need. Michael could have at least held his hand to the end or something, but instead he just blocked it out. He cried harder, staining the pillow under his head with tears. He felt a hand on his back, trying to comfort him, but he paid it no mind. He didn't bother to figure out who was touching him, not caring enough to put a face to the voice speaking to him. Instead, Michael only nestled his face further into his pillow, crying himself to sleep after a while.

A few hours of fitful sleep later, Michael awoke to the creaking of floorboards near him. Usually he would have just gone back to sleep, passing off the noise as one of his friends getting up to go to the bathroom in the night. However, his sleeping bag was nearest to the door, meaning the sound would have come from behind him had it been one of them. The idea that someone else could be sneaking around their safe house made him force his tired eyes to open, internally cringing at their reluctance to open, his eyelashes still stuck together with tears. Squinting in the dark, he could make out a human like shape in the doorway. His breath caught in his throat, trying to stealthily reach for the gun he kept under his pillow. He couldn't deal with this. He couldn't. Please, don't be what I think it is. This can't be happening. Rich killed him, he killed him, he can't be-

The figure in the doorway took a shaky step forward, another creak breaking the silence. Michael let out a quiet sob, getting his fingers around the gun and scrambling to stand up, still trying to keep quiet. Rich would only just shoot him again. The others would scream in terror. Christine or Brooke might cry. 

Michael stepped forward, his chest tight. He kept the gun pointed at the lumbering figure, carefully stepping around it in the doorway. He had just enough room to slip past and get behind it, all movements it made too slow to grab him or anything. 

“J-Just come away from them, that's right… Come out here instead… You don't want them, you want me…” Michael coaxed, his voice thick with emotion. The monster wearing Jeremy’s face instinctively followed, letting out an annoyed groan. Michael carefully walked backwards, guiding it further away from his sleeping friends. 

“There, s-see? I'm way more interesting than them.” He laughed dryly, his heels hitting a wall. He turned to look behind him, frowning when he found himself cornered. That wasn't a part of the plan at all, though he wouldn't let himself panic yet. They were in the room with the supplies once more, and Michael felt sick as he eyed the blood splattered against the wall where Rich had shot Jeremy. 

“How are you like this, Jer? Did Rich miss...?” Michael thought out loud, eyebrows drawn up in confusion. He looked back at the zombie, who was now close enough for Michael to get a better look at in the new light. While it was very clearly Jeremy - or had previously been Jeremy, anyway - there were some very clearly zombie features that scared Michael to his core. Jeremy's eyes, once bright blue and full of life, were now dull and gray, and unfocused. The bite on his side was no longer purple and bruised, but black, contrasting the sickly pale, almost blue tinge Jeremy’s skin had taken on. Most notable was the bullet hole, which was right under his chin, through his neck. Michael realized with a jolt, that he remembered seeing Rich looking away. Closing his eyes, unable to watch himself kill his friend. Without an eye on the target, there was a chance to miss. And too distraught and eager to leave the situation for later, neither of them had thought to check on Jeremy’s corpse to make sure it was take care of right. 

“Oh god… Oh god, Jeremy…” Michael muttered, watching as the monster bearing his best friends face lurched closer and closer. He pressed his back against the wall behind him, arms still outstretched and gun pointed at the zombie’s head. His hands were shaking so badly, he wouldn't be surprised if the shot was missed yet again. 

“I wanted to save you.” Michael said softly, shaking his head. He found himself unable to look away from the dead eyes of his best friend. “I wanted to save you, I did. I didn't want you to die, I didn't want this. Please Jeremy, if you're in there, do something, show me its you so I don't have to shoot.” He begged, watching with growing despair as the zombie got closer and closer. It let out a sickening gurgling noise, something so inherently nonhuman that it made Michael’s hope drain away even more.

“Jeremy  _ please,  _ don't…” He sobbed, hardly noticing the tears on his cheeks. He slid down the wall slowly, pulling his knees up to his chest, the gun still held at an arm's length. His finger wasn't even on the trigger anymore, both hands firmly wrapped around the grip. His cries only increased in volume when the monster closed the last bit of distance between them, opening its jaw and letting out a victorious groan. Michael didn't fight back as the zombie grabbed him be his shoulders, going right in for the kill by biting down hard on the juncture between Michael’s shoulder and neck. The human let out a pained yell on instinct, letting go of the gun with one hand to try and shove Jeremy away, though the zombie didn't budge. Michael was already weak, exhausted from crying and all the emotions he had gone through earlier. He hardly fought back now, feebly bracing his hand on the creature’s shoulder, shoving weakly. Michael screamed in agony as the teeth in his suddenly sank in even further, feeling faint as he watched the blood flow from the wound and soak into his T-shirt, staining it red.

“J-Je-Jer, Jeremy, s-stop…” Michael gasped out, shutting his eyes tight to block out the intense pain. He heard a voice shout at him from far away, and he tried to focus on that instead, anything to stop the pain.

“Michael! Shoot it! Fucking shoot it now!” 

Michael placed the voice as Rich’s, opening one eye slightly. He saw the blurry figure of someone standing in the doorway a few feet away, aiming a gun at him.

“Michael, listen to me! Snap out of it and shoot! That isn't Jeremy anymore, shoot it! I don't want to miss and hit you, you have a better shot! Do it now!” Rich screamed at him, desperation lacing his voice. Suddenly feeling groggy and lightheaded, Michael’s eyes rolled to look at the gun still in his hand. Tightening his grip on it, he lifted his arm, the gun feeling like it weighed a ton. He pressed the barrel against the zombie’s temple, the monster still not letting go of him even with a gun to its head. Michael stared dazedly at the zombie’s eyes a moment more, searching them for any sign of life. It could have been his imagination, a hallucination caused by the amount of blood he had lost, but he swore he saw the familiar twinkle of life in Jeremy’s eyes, felt those eyes stare back at him, just a split second before he pulled the trigger. The bang was loud, right in his ears. This time the bullet made its way to Jeremy's brain, the hold the zombie had on his shoulder lessening until it rolled off of him like it hadn't just had its jaws on him with an iron grip. Michael was trembling, unable to feel his arm past his shoulder where he had gotten bitten. He dropped the gun and held his arm protectively instead, crying his heart out where he sat huddled on the floor. Rich was at his side before he knew it, hugging him close.

“I don't know what happened, I was so sure I finished him… I can't believe I missed, this is all my fault, god michael I'm so sorry…” 

“It's both of our faults, I… I just let him bite me, I couldn't shoot... “

“I wouldn't have expected you to. It was hard enough for me to shoot him the first time, and I haven't known him for even half as long as you have…” Rich trailed off, hearing Michael sniffle. “I’m really sorry about all this, Micheal… I’ll make sure you go down the right way this time. I won't let you come back like he did, okay?” Rich comforted him, already steeling himself for what he knew he had to do. Michael had been bitten, it was already too late. Michael had a faraway look in his eyes, staring at the cold body of Jeremy next to him.

“Do you think he bit me so he wouldn’t be alone? Maybe he wanted me to die too so we could be in the afterlife together.” Michael mumbled. Rich frowned, not wanting to crush Michaels hopes by telling him that probably wasn't true, and that Jeremy probably only bit him as a zombie instinct. 

“Yeah, maybe that is why he did it. There's something to look forward to at least… Do you wanna say goodbye to everyone, Mike?” Rich prompted, nudging him gently to make sure Michael had heard. Michael paused, then shook his head, picking the gun off the floor where he had dropped it.

“No, I hate long goodbyes. Just tell them I’m sorry, and it had to happen eventually. I just wanna get it over with now. Tell them all that I love them. Keep on protecting them, Rich. Fight this shit out to the end.” He sighed, looking the gun over in his hands.

“Yeah, yeah of course. I promise I won't let this happen to anyone else. I hate that I let Jeremy get out of my sight in the first place…” He sat back, trying not to show just how sad he was. Trying to stay strong for everyone else, and Michael, too. Michael smiled at him for a moment, but it dropped just as fast. He felt numb at this point, none of the past few hours even felt real anymore.

“It's not your fault, don't blame yourself. I'll make this easier on you, too… I hate that you have killing Jeremy on your conscience, even if it was the right thing to do, so… here's one less friend you have to kill.” Michael stared at the gun for a moment longer, then looked up at Rich. Meeting his eyes, he barely hesitated as he raised the gun and pointed it at his own temple. Rich’s eyes widened, and instinctively tried to stop his friend. Michael was faster though, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling the trigger, the third gunshot of the night echoing through the house.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is foolishly-snowy.tumblr.com


End file.
